FIC: "Out of My Head" [Glee; Quinn/Rachel]
WTF!?! I wrote over 6,000 words.. and I think I may have just written song!fic. SONG!FIC PEOPLE!! *wails* Dear God, what is this fandom DOING TO ME!?!
Title: Out Of My Head
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Quinn/Rachel
Rating: Mature
Spoilers: Up to 1x07
Word Count: 6051
Summary: When Rachel stops talking to Quinn, Quinn resorts to drastic measures.
**
Quinn squeezed the books pressed to her chest a little tighter as she strode purposely down the hallway. There was a bounce in her step, a slight flush in her cheeks and she kept her eyes downwards because everyone would assume she was blushing because she was pregnant. At the moment, Quinn was quite content to let everyone think that.
She stopped at Rachel’s locker, leaning a shoulder against the metal door right next to Rachel’s. “You wanna come over to my house tonight? To, you know,” Quinn paused. “Study.“ The pause wasn‘t intentional. Quinn just needed the moment to clear her mind of the images that flickered in her brain. She and Rachel had been doing a lot of ‘studying’ lately, Quinn studying Rachel‘s lips with her own, Rachel studying Quinn‘s vagina with her fingers, Rachel replacing her fingers with her lips and Quinn studying the power of multiple orgasms. It involved fractions.
“Can’t,” Rachel slammed her locker shut. “It’s Daddies/daughter night at Casa de la Berry and my dad’s are taking me to a showing of ‘A Star Is Born’.”
“Oh,” Quinn tried to hide the disappointment on her face. “What about..”
But, Rachel was already gone. Nothing but a retreating form disappearing in the crowded hallway.
**
“Hey,” Quinn caught Rachel by the arm after practice. “You wanna ride home?” There’s a tinge of desperation in Quinn’s voice. Part of it curiosity, the other part wondered if there was something going on with the other girl. Mostly, Quinn was just plain horny. It had been six days since she and Rachel have touched and, God, does Quinn miss it.
“Can’t,” the pull from Quinn’s grasp was subtle but it was there. “Kurt’s Dad is finally let him drive again so we’re going to Value Village to help him shop for his Halloween costume.”
**
This went on for almost a week, Quinn trying desperately to get Rachel alone and Rachel having some reason not to.
Quinn was confused. With boys, she knew the rules, knew how to play the game. This whole sexual fluidity thing had her stumped. If she and Rachel were girlfriends, as in girls who were friends as opposed to girls who did friends who were girls, Quinn would know what to do. There was the usual start a nasty rumor, usually involving sex with a less than desirable partner, and let the storm winds do their damage. Or, she could just ignore her and watch her social status fall like a led zeppelin meeting a match. But, Rachel was already on the lowest rung of the social echelon. There was no down for her to go. Quinn’s bag of tricks didn’t work on Rachel.
Quinn Fabray was a smart girl but Rachel Berry had Quinn feeling as dumb as..
“Finn?” Quinn’s voice lilted slightly as it always did when she wanted to ask him something he usually didn’t want to answer.
“Mmm?” He answered back. They were sitting next to each other on the couch, Finn’s arm draped over Quinn’s shoulder as he watched some movie with explosions and gun fights that Quinn had no interest in watching.
She looked up at him with a sort of squinty expression, already examining his face for the answer. “How can you tell when I’m mad at you?”
Finn’s eyebrows shot up and, for the first time since the movie started, he turned his eyes towards his girlfriend. “What’d I do now?”
Immediately, Quinn straightened, arms hastily folded over her chest. “What do you mean *now*?”
“What?” Finn’s eyes darted back and forth. Quinn could practically see the hamster in wheel also known as Finn’s brain spinning frantically and going no where.
“What what?” Quinn exhaled, tossing Finn‘s arm off her shoulder and slumping against the couch. “Just answer the question.”
“Well,” Finn shrugged. “You have layers of mad, like an onion or a parfait.”
“Quoting Shrek isn’t going to get you out of this.”
“But it’s true. Level One is like me forgetting to carry your books or something. Level Two is looking at another Cheerios ass. Level Three is when you think I called you fat when I didn’t. Level Four..”
“Wait, how many levels are there?”
Finn extended both of his hands, lips silently moving as he started counting his fingers. “Seventeen.”
**
It was dumb, like Finn dumb, because the last person Quinn should have taken ‘girl advice’ from was one Finn Hudson. But it wasn’t like there was anyone else she could turn to. There was no ‘Teenaged Girl’s Guide to Being On the Down-Low’. She’d used her best Google-fu and came up with nothing. Oh sure, there were a few things she’d learned and if Rachel were still talking to her, definitely a few more she’d like to try. But nothing that could explain the wall of silence named Rachel Berry.
It was Glee practice and Quinn sat in the back of the room studying Rachel like Quinn was on a mission from God.. or Sue Sylvester. Which, all things considered, was probably about the same thing. All the while, Finn’s checklist ran through the back of her head. She hadn’t called Rachel fat.. lately. She hadn’t missed any birthdays or anniversaries. They’d only been secretly seeing each other for less than a month so it wasn‘t like they had any anniversaries to celebrate anyway. Rachel was still getting all the leads.
For all intents and purposes, Rachel was acting normal. Except, Quinn now knew Rachel was mad at her. The lack of eye contact, the continued brush offs and ignoring. And the wondering why was killing Quinn.
Sure, she waited patiently like a big cat stalking its prey and when practice ended, Quinn pounced. She grabbed Rachel by the arm, pulling her hurriedly into the Janitor’s Closet and slamming the door behind them.
“Quinn!” Rachel growled. “What the Hell’s the matter with you?”
“With me? What the Hell’s the matter with you? You‘ve been avoiding me like the plague. Why?”
Rachel’s face went red and if Quinn were going by Finn’s Girl Anger Alert System then she’d definitely hit Level Seventeen.
“Do you love me?”
“What?” Quinn stepped back as if struck.
“Hell,” Rachel ran her hands over her head. “Do you even *like* me?”
“I thought that was kinda obvious.”
“No, what’s obvious is you like having sex with me. No, wait, you like me having sex with you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means do you know how many times I’ve gone down on you?”
Quinn shrugged sheepishly. Maybe this *was* going where she thought it was. “I didn’t realize I was supposed to be keeping score.”
“You should. Because the answer’s fourteen. Fourteen. And that’s not including all the other stuff. Do you know how many times you’ve gone down on me?” Rachel paused just enough for Quinn to almost think up the answer. “None.”
“If you want me to..”
“Does Finn even know about us?”
The blush that had crept onto Quinn’s cheeks faded quickly, along with the rest of the blood in her face. “What?”
“Rachel Berry is no one’s sloppy seconds!” She pointedly jabbed her finger at Quinn. “If you want to have your cake and eat it to, which is funny because you definitely don’t do *that*, find somebody else!”
**
Breaking up with Finn turned out to be easier than Quinn imagined. Sure, there were tears - on Quinn and Finn’s part, mostly Finn, but not as much as Quinn imagined there would be. In fact, Finn seemed kind of.. relieved. Like some of the weight had been lifted off his shoulders. She was still pregnant with ‘his’ child and Finn would still be part of the process until Quinn gave the baby away, but the non-baby portion of Quinn was no longer Finn’s responsibility.
It was that moment where Quinn realized Finn didn’t love her anymore.
A day, a week, a month ago, this revelation would have infuriated Quinn. Sure, she wasn’t in love with Finn as much as the ‘idea’ of being in love with Finn, the popular, All-American High School Quarterback. While this popular, All-American High School Quarterback was cute, goofy and fun to be around, he was also dumb as a post and Quinn, admittedly, had grown tired of doing all the intellectual heavy lifting. As the words left her lips, she felt her own weight being lifted off her shoulders.
Morning sickness played a huge role in Quinn skipping school the next day. What little blood remained in her face drained the moment her mother caught Quinn praying to the porcelain God. A mention of the words ‘swine’ and ‘flu’ had Quinn’s mother off like a shot and calling the Principal complaining about the school’s lack of timely vaccinations.
Quinn spent the day curled in a fetal position on her bed, ignoring the cell phone set to vibrate and it’s timely buzzing every 55 minutes. Cheerios wanting to get confirmation of the news probably spreading like wildfire across the school.
When school ended and the texts and voice-mails turned to knocks at her front door, Quinn pulled the covers over her head and quietly wished them to go away.
She did let one person in. Rachel had been right about one thing - Quinn did need Glee. And Quinn let in the one person she felt she could trust.
“Go on,” Quinn sighed, rolling her eyes. “You know you want to.”
Kurt’s foundation laden finger hovered inches from Quinn’s face. Quinn hadn’t felt like leaving the house so retail therapy was totally out of the question. But playing the role of canvas to Kurt Hummel’s palette of MAC cosmetics was a kind of therapy Quinn could get into. His latest creation was something he liked to call ‘Doris Day meets Lady Gaga’. He’d already tried it on himself but he ‘just didn’t have the cheekbones to pull it off’. Which is where Quinn came in.
Kurt leaned back, tilting his hips and squinting his eyes suspiciously. “Are you sure?” he asked, drawing out the last word.
“It’s a limited time offer, Kurt,” Quinn answered. “And the clock’s ticking.”
“Fine,” he leaned back in, dabbing foundation on Quinn’s face. “Why’d you break up with Finn?” he asked in the most nonchalant of tones.
Quinn sighed, closing her eyes as Kurt worked his magic. She had to tell someone or she thought, for sure, she’d explode. “I think I’m in love with someone else.”
There was the slightest of gasps. “It’s Mr. Shuester, isn’t it?”
“No!” Quinn’s eyes snapped open and she gaped at Kurt.
“Puck?”
“Definitely no.”
“Artie?”
“KURT! Knock it off!” He backed off, doing this little huff/shimmy thing with his body. Quinn relaxed, easing back into the chair. “Not that it matters anyway. I blew it and I don’t know why.”
“Well, if he’s willing to turn his back on you, he’s an idiot.”
Quinn sucked her lower lip between her teeth. She was really going to do it. She was really going to say it. Quinn inhaled deeply, released her lip from between her teeth and exhaled. “She.”
“Excuse me?” Kurt asked in a ‘did I hear what I think I just heard’ tone.
“The he in question is not a he, but a she.”
Kurt went quiet. Quinn watched his eyes in the mirror. There was excited shock, the kind of look you get when you hear the greatest piece of gossip you’ve heard since.. well, last week. Quinn felt like a china doll teetering over the edge ready to break into a million pieces. It was out there now, words she couldn’t take back even though she really wanted to. She wanted to take it all back, the lies, the betrayals. Mainly, she just wanted to stop.. hurting. Her eyes began to well, her lower lip trembled, matching the tremors rumbling within her. Teetering, teetering, teetering.
Kurt’s face softened. He leaned down, pressing the side of his face next to Quinn’s as his arms wrapped around her shoulders. “Shh,” he whispered softly. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
**
“Rachel!” Kurt gasped for like the billionth time. “RACHEL BERRY!?!”
“God,” Quinn smiled sheepishly. “Stop sounding like a broken record.”
“Girlfriend,” he slapped Quinn’s knee playfully. “When you aim, you definitely aim high.”
They were sitting cross-legged across from each other on Quinn’s bed. When she stopped crying, (God, why was she crying so much these days?) Quinn told Kurt everything. Well, maybe not *everything*. She certainly didn’t tell him about the paternity status of her unborn child but she told him everything about Rachel. The argument that lead to a kiss. The kiss that lead to more kisses. The first time in the backseat of Quinn’s car and the many times afterwards. Not so much with the details, Kurt went kinda green at the first mention of Rachel’s tongue on Quinn’s vagina and she was pretty certain he’d pass out if she mentioned just how much of a freak Rachel could be. She told Kurt about Rachel’s sudden abrupt turn, Quinn’s attempts to talk and the brush-offs.
“Can you blame her?” he said. “We’re talking about a girl who’ll cut you to be first in line at Applebee’s. And you’re asking her to be on the down low?”
“I know,” Quinn slumped her shoulders. “I just don’t know what to do.”
Kurt squinted his eyes, lips curling into an impish grin. “I think I may have the answer.”
**
Quinn turned off the engine to her car. She rested her forehead on the steering wheel, fingers still holding the steering wheel with a vice grip. This had to work. It had to.
‘Go big or go home’ Kurt had said. Quinn was used to taking risks. She hadn’t gotten to where she was without taking risks. Of course, she’d lost it all to taking a risk with Puck but that was beside the point. They were all ‘calculated’ risks, carefully planned, constructed and implemented.
This? This was flying without a net and Quinn didn’t know what would happen if she fell. And that was the scariest part of all.
Somewhere, probably in the backseat or something, Quinn found her resolve. She swallowed it with a healthy gulp of courage and a tiny dash of ‘God, if this doesn’t work I may just kill myself’.
A hint of winter was in the air and Quinn could see her breath in wispy strands that floated upwards. She set the boom-box down on the grass of the Berry family’s front lawn, not worrying about whether the dew-coated grass would interfere with the electronics. If this didn’t work, a broken stereo was the least of her worries.
Quinn reached down, pressed her finger onto the ‘play’ button.
And started to sing.
“Guess mine is not the first heart broken. My eyes are not the first to cry.”
**
Rachel twitched then rolled over. She pulled her arm over her face, consciousness and unconsciousness were having a fight and, sadly, consciousness was winning. Maybe not, because there was music. Sweet, sweet music. Rachel smiled and rolled onto her side.
“Dad,” she mumbled aloud. “Olivia Newton-John‘s at the door.”
Rachel’s eyes snapped open.
“..But baby can’t you see. There’s nothing else for me to do..
Her legs moved on their own, kicking at the sheets covering them as her hands fumbled clumsily to yank them back. Her feet hit the floor and she sleep-drunk stumbled to the window.
Quinn Fabray was standing on Rachel’s front lawn.
Quinn Fabray was singing.
“..I’m hopelessly devoted to you..”
Rachel yanked open the window and squealed at the first blast of cold that whooshed through the open space. Hands on the windowsill, she leaned outwards.
“Quinn!” she whisper-shouted.
“My head is saying ‘Fool, forget her’,” Quinn sang back.
“Quinn!” Rachel whisper-shouted a little louder. “It’s three o’clock in the morning!”
“My heart is sayin’ ‘Don’t let go’..”
Rachel retreated back into her bedroom, slamming the window closed behind her. She stomped quickly down the stairs, hurriedly slipping her feet into the first pair of shoes she came into contact with. Unfortunately, they were her Dad’s golf shoes, way too big and friggin’ cold as ice but it was better than going outside barefoot.
She yanked open the door just in time to be assaulted with the chorus.
“..But now, there’s nowhere to hide. Since you pushed my love aside..”
“QUINN!” Rachel was yelling now, marching across her front porch and onto the yard.
“..I’m out of my head. Hopelessly devoted to you..”
“GODDAMMIT QUINN!” Rachel found the ‘stop’ button on the boom-box. Finally, Quinn stopped singing. “I just told my Dad you were mentally ill from getting dropped on the head in one cheerleading pyramid gone wrong too many so he wouldn’t call the cops.”
“What was I supposed to do, Rachel? You won’t answer my phone calls, you won’t talk to me at school.”
“It’s called avoiding you for a reason.”
“I just want to talk.”
“So this is your answer?”
“How else was I supposed to get your attention? It was either this or kidnapping and I‘m in enough teenaged trouble as it is.”
“Whatever trouble you’re in, I’m not a part of it. Not anymore,” Rachel turned her eyes towards the ground, finding something of interest on the wing-tipped toe of her father’s shoe.
Flying without a net and Quinn had crashed and burned. She leaned down to pickup the boom-box. It looked like there would be more crying in her future.
Rachel was standing in her front yard wearing nothing but a long t-shirt and her Dad’s golf shoes, and still she didn’t look as pathetic as one Quinn Fabray, with her jeans and over-sized bomber jacket with the faux sheepskin collar. Her eyes were cast downward, blonde hair spilling over her face as she stared at the two hands holding the handle to the boom box. “Tell your Dad’s I’m sorry,” she mumbled before turning on her heel and trudging towards her car.
“Quinn?” Rachel exhaled, running a hand over her head. “Where are you going?”
Quinn stopped dead in her tracks. “Home?” she said, turning her head slightly towards Rachel almost like she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to look for hope where there was none to be found.
“God,” Rachel huffed and the cracks in the resolve of cement she’d built around herself began to show. “Would you just.. come inside.”
Quinn tried not to smile.. too much. She spun around quickly, practically running towards the brunette. Rachel had already turned around, walking back towards the house. She slowed letting Quinn catch up with her. “And you are soo not Sandy,” she growled accusingly. “Rizzo maybe but definitely not Sandy!”
**
Rachel sat cross legged on her bed, the covers pulled over her legs. Quinn sat on a chair that felt a million miles away, her hands stuffed deep in her jacket pockets because she didn’t know what else to do with them. They hadn’t spoken for like five minutes or maybe it was five hours. Quinn couldn’t tell. She was too busy trying not to look Rachel in the eyes, or think about kissing Rachel, or how many pieces her heart would break into if she tried to kiss Rachel and Rachel said no.
“So..” Rachel broke the silence. “Did you break up with Finn because of me?”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Berry,” Quinn winced at the retort quickly fired off her tongue, slumping a bit further in her jacket like her shoulders were made of jelly. “Sorry. Reflex.”
“It’s okay,” Rachel shrugged. “I understand.”
Another silence followed. Quinn’s eyes found something of interest on Rachel’s bedspread. Her lips pursed and her eyebrows scrunched together. “I felt like I was drowning,” she finally said aloud. “Like, I always knew who I was, what I wanted and how to get it. Then I got pregnant. Then I met you,“ her eyes quickly lifted to meet Rachel’s then shot back downwards again. “We don’t do gay in my house, unless by gay you mean happy and the Fabray’s don’t do happy either. We do appearances. I was very good at being the Quinn Fabray I was supposed to be. I just,” Quinn exhaled. “I just got tired of being ‘her’ and wanted to be me, whoever that is.”
“Technically,” Rachel added when the silence fell again and became too much. “You might not be gay. There is this thing called bisexuality. While I ping somewhere between 4 and 5 on the Kinsey Scale, I try not to limit my options when it comes to physical intimacy due to a potential partner‘s unfortunate Y chromosome.”
Quinn snorted. “Right. Like that’ll make a difference with my parents. Isn’t she lovely?” Quinn’s voice took on a false falsetto. “Our bisexual, pregnant daughter.”
“Oh, it’s not that bad. You’re sure to kill in the talent portion of the Miss Bisexual, Pregnant Teen pageant,” Rachel chuckled and her smile widened as she saw Quinn’s lips curl upwards, grinning back at her. “Even if you are a little sharp.”
“There are worse things I could do,” Quinn answered.
“Exactly!”
The smiles turned to soft sighs and the silence returned between them. Quinn fidgeted in her seat. She took her hands out of her pockets, wiped the sweaty palms on her jeans then stowed them back away.
“I’m sorry,” Quinn said.
“For what?”
“For making you think I didn’t want to reciprocate.”
“Oh,” Rachel’s eyes went wide and, suddenly, it was her eyes that were looking downward, finding some random spot on the bed. “Oh!”
“I want.. wanted to. It’s just.. God, Rachel, you have a mouth that could suck the chrome off a trailer hitch. It’s like when Mr. Anderson tried to explain string theory. Like, I get that it involved physics, I just didn’t get how you got from A to Z. I was afraid of messing up. That I couldn’t do to you what you do to me. Anyway,” Quinn rose from her chair. “That’s all I wanted to say and I understand if you hate me and..”
“Quinn,” Rachel cut her off.
Head tilted down, Quinn answered, “Yeah?”
“Take off your clothes.”
While Quinn’s brain tried to register if she’d heard what she thought she’d heard, Quinn’s hands were already working on Rachel’s request, yanking down the zipper on her jacket as her feet worked on sliding off her shoes.
Rachel surreptitiously licked her lips, wondering if it were possible to spontaneously combust. Of all the times they’d ‘done it’, it had never been with either of them completely naked, always in backseats or closets, short quickies where the only thing removed had been Quinn’s panties. And even that hadn’t been every single time.
Now, Quinn was in Rachel’s bedroom, taking off her clothes, ALL of her clothes. A black t-shirt pulled up, revealing tan skin, slightly darker nipples. Quinn’s fingers moved to her jeans and Rachel swallowed hard even though her mouth had turned dry as the Sahara. It’s not like she hadn’t seen it before, just not like this, nothing but skin, nothing but Quinn.
Quinn rose to her full height. Sheepishly, she folded her arms over her chest. She’d never wanted anything so much in all her life and, yet, she still felt embarrassed. No. Exposed. Vulnerable. She always considered herself a strong, centered and secure person. But, one wrong word from Rachel Berry and Quinn thought she’d break into a million pieces.
Rachel rose onto her knees and outstretched her hand. “C’mere.”
Fingers touched and Quinn exhaled a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. They stood on their knees, bodies inches apart. Rachel reached up, cupping Quinn’s face with one hand, brushing the hair off Quinn’s forehead with the other. Their lips met and Quinn suddenly realized she had hands, hands she could slide up Rachel’s thighs and onto her hips. Fingers she could use to trace the elastic band of Rachel’s panties, move around to the front, slide down and under.
Rachel stiffened, pulling back and breaking their kiss. “Slow down, tiger. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Sorry,” Quinn mumbled.
“Don’t apologize. Just..” she kissed the corner of Quinn’s lips. “Take off my shirt.”
Halfway up Rachel’s torso and Quinn realized her hands were shaking. She managed to pull of Rachel’s tee without doing anything terribly embarrassing. Then, she turned into a horny fourteen-year-old boy because Rachel had BREASTS, full and round, all darkened areolas and hardened nipples and if there was a term for ‘girl wood’, Quinn definitely had it.
“They’re boobs, Quinn,” Rachel laughed softly. “Quit acting like you’ve never seen them before.”
“Not like this,” Quinn exhaled. She cupped them with her hands, grazed her thumbs over the stiffened peaks. Rachel sucked in a breath. Quinn shivered. It’s not like she’d never touched Rachel’s breasts before, just not without the usual barriers of blouse and bra between Rachel’s skin and Quinn’s fingers.
Quinn leaned down, sucked a nipple into her mouth. Clasped it gently with her lips as she battered it with her tongue. She felt Rachel’s fingers threading into her hair, heard the rising and jagged tempo of Rachel’s breathing, felt the increasing beat of Rachel’s heart.
She felt the visceral thrill in the form of a shiver running down her spine over the realization that, yes, it was she, Quinn, who was doing this to Rachel. Yeah, Quinn could *definitely* get used to this.
The fingers in Quinn’s hair tugged her upwards and her mouth was, once again, claimed by Rachel. Quinn pushed her back gently, breaking the kiss because she wanted, no, needed Rachel flat on her back.
Rachel stared up at Quinn, eyes all hooded and dark, mouth slightly open and panting. There’s a tension in the air. Anticipation. Quinn brought her hand up and drew her finger over Rachel’s lips. Rachel’s lips. She’s always said Rachel Berry had a big mouth. She meant it then, she means it now. Quinn drew her fingers over lips she imagined kissing for the rest of her life.
Then, Quinn leaned down, replaced her fingers with her tongue and gently traced all over Rachel’s lips. She suckled on Rachel’s upper lip, then suckled on Rachel’s lower lip and Rachel wondered if it were possible to come just from kissing alone. Then it was lips against lips, mouths opening, tongues dueling, slow and languid, like nothing else mattered and they had all the time in the world for just.. this.
Quinn pulled back, just enough to break the kiss, just enough to where she could feel Rachel’s heated breath inside her mouth.
“You’re so beautiful,” Quinn panted softly into Rachel’s mouth.
“Say it again.”
Her lips spread into a smile. “You’re beautiful.”
They kissed again. Slow and languid turned to passionate and hurried. Rachel grabbed Quinn’s hand by the wrist and guided it down. Quinn broke the kiss because she wanted to watch her fingers, watch them as they slid under the waistband of Rachel’s panties, slid over trimmed and coarse curls. And then her fingers were ‘there’, and Rachel was slippery wet, warm and swollen. She slid a finger between the folds, found Rachel‘s clit and Rachel hissed at the first contact, hips bucking lightly under Quinn’s touch.
Quinn knew this part. She *knew* it. She’d done it to herself tons of times, Rachel had done it to her dozens of times. But it still felt ‘alien’, like she was touching herself but could only feel it in the most intangible of ways. She watched her fingers, bobbing slowly up and down underneath Rachel’s panties. Then, she tilted up her head so she could watch Rachel. Rachel, with her eyes squeezed shut, head tilted slightly back, mouth slack-jawed and silently screaming.
Is this what Rachel saw when she did this to Quinn? Is this what Quinn looked like - pained and pleasured and kinda confused because it felt so good?
“Quinn..” Rachel keened and Quinn stilled her fingers.
“Wait!” Quinn whispered forcefully, pausing until Rachel opened her eyes. “I want to..” Quinn licked her lips, afraid to say the words. “Can I?”
Rachel nodded her head hurriedly, pursing her lips into a flat line because she was holding back and, God, if Quinn didn’t do something soon she really was going to explode.
Pulling back the covers, Quinn moved up and onto her knees. She pulled down Rachel’s panties, Rachel helping by lifting up her legs so Quinn could pull them off completely. Knees up, heels digging into the mattress for purchase, Rachel opened herself to Quinn.
Touching was one thing, but seeing? Seeing was another. It’s not like Quinn hadn’t seen a vagina before. She, like everyone else, had the internet after all. But this was Rachel Berry. RACHEL BERRY. All glistening wet, flushed dark pink and ripened peach swollen.
“Quinn..” Rachel panted, breaking Quinn from her thoughts. “Please.”
At that moment, ‘please’ became the sexiest word in the universe. Quinn lowered and Rachel’s scent wafted into her nostrils, all musky and heady and, God, why *had* she waited so long to do this? She could just look or she could touch, and taste. Quinn chose the latter, diving like a fat kid at a pie eating contest, just as hungry and about twice as sloppy.
What Quinn Fabray lacked in experience, she made up for with pure enthusiasm. It was all Rachel could do but hold on. Her body one giant live-wire - writhing and undulating beneath Quinn. Her hands alternated between grasping the headboard and clenching the sheets. And while Rachel had two very liberal father’s as parents, she was pretty sure that even two gay Dad’s, were they to walk in, would be horrified at the sight of Quinn Fabray’s head buried between their only daughter’s very eager and very open legs. So Rachel turned her head and bit into the fleshy inside of her bicep to keep from screaming.
Because she was coming, oh God!, was she coming. Like a freight train on crystal meth traveling on a tsunami made entirely of lightening, Rachel’s orgasm hit her and hit her hard. Her throat seized and a guttural groan pushed from her mouth like a bow scraping over strings, her body convulsed, undulating and bucking and Quinn just.. wouldn’t.. stop. She felt a finger slide into her, a bite of pain. A hiss escaped through her lips, Quinn moaned, moaned right there, and another wave of pleasure erupted from within her.
“Quinn..” Rachel gasped, her hand flailing about until her fingers met Quinn’s head and she was threading her fingers into blonde locks and pulling. “Please.”
Of course, Quinn had gone like all feral, growling into Rachel’s pussy like Rachel was trying to take Quinn’s bone or something. Which Rachel would have found cute - what with Quinn gazing up at her through the hair falling over her face and her mouth clamped onto Rachel’s pussy like a Hoover set to ‘super suck’ - except, Rachel had reached her pleasure point and really was going into sensory overload.
“Baby,” Rachel whined. “Please.”
Please. Hazel eyes softened and Quinn moved back. Triumphant, she clambered over Rachel, all big cat over its prey while licking her lips in a way that made Rachel reconsider her whole ‘could you stop for a second’ stance.
“Well?” Quinn asked.
“Do you really have to ask?” Rachel rolled her eyes, then gasped as Quinn suckled a sensitive spot on Rachel’s neck.
“Mm-hmm,” Quinn purred into Rachel’s neck. “Us diva’s have delicate ego’s, you know. Mine just needs a little stroking.”
“A little stroking, huh?”
They were missionary, Quinn on top, Rachel’s legs folded over Quinn’s hips. Quinn had started rolling her hips because Rachel was pressed against her, and her warm, wet heat felt *really* good.
“Well..” Rachel groaned. They weren’t quite equipped for what Quinn was doing with her hips but if Quinn kept doing ‘that‘, Rachel wasn’t going to argue. “You scored a perfect 10 on both performance and required elements but got a 1.5 deduction for technical merit.”
“What was wrong with my technique?” Quinn huffed, on the verge of getting offended.
“There is this thing called ‘nuance’,” Rachel wriggled uncomfortably. “Try starting in first and shifting gears as opposed to just stepping on the gas and trying to win the Indy 500. Next time..”
“Next time?” Quinn asked, eyebrow lifting on her forehead, lips curling into a devilish grin.
“Like I said,” Rachel purred, sliding her hands down Quinn’s back and cupping her ass. “You did score perfect 10’s in both performance and required elements.”
“And next time?” Quinn moaned into Rachel’s neck, finding that spot once again and feeling Rachel arch beneath her.
“Next time,” Rachel husked. “Try tracing the letters of the alphabet with your tongue. It always works on you.”
“No,” Quinn grazed her nose along Rachel’s cheek, until it nuzzled against Rachel’s nose. “I meant next time as in tomorrow or next time as in ‘can I go down on you again, like, right now’?”
“I suppose,” Rachel grinned, tilting her head up to press her lips against Quinn’s. “We could work on improving your technical elements.”
**
ONE WEEK LATER
Quinn stood in the entrance of William McKinley High School and inhaled deeply. Today was the first day of the rest of her life. She was still a bit uncertain about a few things. Like, if her new life would be as ‘Miss Bisexual, Pregnant Teen USA’, ‘Miss Lesbian, Pregnant Teen USA’ or just plain old ‘Miss Just Gay For Rachel Berry, Pregnant Teen USA’.
No longer a Cheerio, while she didn’t quite accept the slings and arrows now thrown her way, she’d become.. accustomed to them. Being the most popular girl in school somehow seemed a little less important to Quinn these days. Not as important as being who she wanted to be as opposed to what everyone else expected her to be.
She eyed dark hair bounding towards the lockers at the far end of the hallway. Quinn smiled, taking another healthy inhale of resolve and made her way towards Rachel.
“Hey!” She leaned a shoulder against the lockers, head tilted down slightly and smiling shyly.
“Hey,” Rachel answered back. Her eyes went to Quinn’s chest, well, more the book held against it. “’Judaism for Dummies’? Quinn Fabray,” her voice lowered to a low and purry whisper. “Are you trying to seduce me?”
“Pfft!” Quinn leaned in conspiratorially. “Like, at this point, I even need to try. I already know how to make you wail like a cat on a hot tin roof.”
Rachel moved a little closer. “I could kiss you right now.”
Quinn blushed, her eyes suddenly moving downwards. “You can,” her eyes flickered up towards Rachel’s then back down again. “If you want.”
In the noisy hallway, with the hundreds of students buzzing by, all Quinn could hear was the sudden pounding of her own heart. She lifted her eyes, Rachel had that stunned ‘deer in headlights’ look she often got when something unexpected hit her in the face. Quinn would have found it cute were she not, at the moment, completely terrified.
The warning bell rang and students began to scatter. The expression on Rachel’s face softened but not the crimson coloring her cheeks. She turned, keeping her eyes on Quinn before making the motions to head towards class.
Quinn reached out with her hand, clasping it around Rachel’s. Rachel froze and stiffened but stayed relaxed enough for Quinn to thread her fingers with Rachel’s.
“Are you sure?” Rachel asked.
Quinn looked down at their entwined fingers, then back up at Rachel, smiling sheepishly. “Not really.”
Rachel squeezed her fingers softly. Together, they turned and made their way towards class. Quinn held her head high. If there were slings and arrows, she didn’t notice. She’d been out of her head for a while now. She was Miss Pregnant Teen USA, the fallen golden girl. There were still secrets, still skeletons and, eventually, some of them would get out. Maybe that’s what’s supposed to happen, the consequence of being someone else.
As Quinn walked to class, Rachel Berry beside her, their hands entwined, for the first time in a very long time, Quinn Fabray felt like Quinn.
The person she’s always wanted to be.
END
x-posted to rachel_quinn
Title: Out Of My Head
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Quinn/Rachel
Rating: Mature
Spoilers: Up to 1x07
Word Count: 6051
Summary: When Rachel stops talking to Quinn, Quinn resorts to drastic measures.
**
Quinn squeezed the books pressed to her chest a little tighter as she strode purposely down the hallway. There was a bounce in her step, a slight flush in her cheeks and she kept her eyes downwards because everyone would assume she was blushing because she was pregnant. At the moment, Quinn was quite content to let everyone think that.
She stopped at Rachel’s locker, leaning a shoulder against the metal door right next to Rachel’s. “You wanna come over to my house tonight? To, you know,” Quinn paused. “Study.“ The pause wasn‘t intentional. Quinn just needed the moment to clear her mind of the images that flickered in her brain. She and Rachel had been doing a lot of ‘studying’ lately, Quinn studying Rachel‘s lips with her own, Rachel studying Quinn‘s vagina with her fingers, Rachel replacing her fingers with her lips and Quinn studying the power of multiple orgasms. It involved fractions.
“Can’t,” Rachel slammed her locker shut. “It’s Daddies/daughter night at Casa de la Berry and my dad’s are taking me to a showing of ‘A Star Is Born’.”
“Oh,” Quinn tried to hide the disappointment on her face. “What about..”
But, Rachel was already gone. Nothing but a retreating form disappearing in the crowded hallway.
**
“Hey,” Quinn caught Rachel by the arm after practice. “You wanna ride home?” There’s a tinge of desperation in Quinn’s voice. Part of it curiosity, the other part wondered if there was something going on with the other girl. Mostly, Quinn was just plain horny. It had been six days since she and Rachel have touched and, God, does Quinn miss it.
“Can’t,” the pull from Quinn’s grasp was subtle but it was there. “Kurt’s Dad is finally let him drive again so we’re going to Value Village to help him shop for his Halloween costume.”
**
This went on for almost a week, Quinn trying desperately to get Rachel alone and Rachel having some reason not to.
Quinn was confused. With boys, she knew the rules, knew how to play the game. This whole sexual fluidity thing had her stumped. If she and Rachel were girlfriends, as in girls who were friends as opposed to girls who did friends who were girls, Quinn would know what to do. There was the usual start a nasty rumor, usually involving sex with a less than desirable partner, and let the storm winds do their damage. Or, she could just ignore her and watch her social status fall like a led zeppelin meeting a match. But, Rachel was already on the lowest rung of the social echelon. There was no down for her to go. Quinn’s bag of tricks didn’t work on Rachel.
Quinn Fabray was a smart girl but Rachel Berry had Quinn feeling as dumb as..
“Finn?” Quinn’s voice lilted slightly as it always did when she wanted to ask him something he usually didn’t want to answer.
“Mmm?” He answered back. They were sitting next to each other on the couch, Finn’s arm draped over Quinn’s shoulder as he watched some movie with explosions and gun fights that Quinn had no interest in watching.
She looked up at him with a sort of squinty expression, already examining his face for the answer. “How can you tell when I’m mad at you?”
Finn’s eyebrows shot up and, for the first time since the movie started, he turned his eyes towards his girlfriend. “What’d I do now?”
Immediately, Quinn straightened, arms hastily folded over her chest. “What do you mean *now*?”
“What?” Finn’s eyes darted back and forth. Quinn could practically see the hamster in wheel also known as Finn’s brain spinning frantically and going no where.
“What what?” Quinn exhaled, tossing Finn‘s arm off her shoulder and slumping against the couch. “Just answer the question.”
“Well,” Finn shrugged. “You have layers of mad, like an onion or a parfait.”
“Quoting Shrek isn’t going to get you out of this.”
“But it’s true. Level One is like me forgetting to carry your books or something. Level Two is looking at another Cheerios ass. Level Three is when you think I called you fat when I didn’t. Level Four..”
“Wait, how many levels are there?”
Finn extended both of his hands, lips silently moving as he started counting his fingers. “Seventeen.”
**
It was dumb, like Finn dumb, because the last person Quinn should have taken ‘girl advice’ from was one Finn Hudson. But it wasn’t like there was anyone else she could turn to. There was no ‘Teenaged Girl’s Guide to Being On the Down-Low’. She’d used her best Google-fu and came up with nothing. Oh sure, there were a few things she’d learned and if Rachel were still talking to her, definitely a few more she’d like to try. But nothing that could explain the wall of silence named Rachel Berry.
It was Glee practice and Quinn sat in the back of the room studying Rachel like Quinn was on a mission from God.. or Sue Sylvester. Which, all things considered, was probably about the same thing. All the while, Finn’s checklist ran through the back of her head. She hadn’t called Rachel fat.. lately. She hadn’t missed any birthdays or anniversaries. They’d only been secretly seeing each other for less than a month so it wasn‘t like they had any anniversaries to celebrate anyway. Rachel was still getting all the leads.
For all intents and purposes, Rachel was acting normal. Except, Quinn now knew Rachel was mad at her. The lack of eye contact, the continued brush offs and ignoring. And the wondering why was killing Quinn.
Sure, she waited patiently like a big cat stalking its prey and when practice ended, Quinn pounced. She grabbed Rachel by the arm, pulling her hurriedly into the Janitor’s Closet and slamming the door behind them.
“Quinn!” Rachel growled. “What the Hell’s the matter with you?”
“With me? What the Hell’s the matter with you? You‘ve been avoiding me like the plague. Why?”
Rachel’s face went red and if Quinn were going by Finn’s Girl Anger Alert System then she’d definitely hit Level Seventeen.
“Do you love me?”
“What?” Quinn stepped back as if struck.
“Hell,” Rachel ran her hands over her head. “Do you even *like* me?”
“I thought that was kinda obvious.”
“No, what’s obvious is you like having sex with me. No, wait, you like me having sex with you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means do you know how many times I’ve gone down on you?”
Quinn shrugged sheepishly. Maybe this *was* going where she thought it was. “I didn’t realize I was supposed to be keeping score.”
“You should. Because the answer’s fourteen. Fourteen. And that’s not including all the other stuff. Do you know how many times you’ve gone down on me?” Rachel paused just enough for Quinn to almost think up the answer. “None.”
“If you want me to..”
“Does Finn even know about us?”
The blush that had crept onto Quinn’s cheeks faded quickly, along with the rest of the blood in her face. “What?”
“Rachel Berry is no one’s sloppy seconds!” She pointedly jabbed her finger at Quinn. “If you want to have your cake and eat it to, which is funny because you definitely don’t do *that*, find somebody else!”
**
Breaking up with Finn turned out to be easier than Quinn imagined. Sure, there were tears - on Quinn and Finn’s part, mostly Finn, but not as much as Quinn imagined there would be. In fact, Finn seemed kind of.. relieved. Like some of the weight had been lifted off his shoulders. She was still pregnant with ‘his’ child and Finn would still be part of the process until Quinn gave the baby away, but the non-baby portion of Quinn was no longer Finn’s responsibility.
It was that moment where Quinn realized Finn didn’t love her anymore.
A day, a week, a month ago, this revelation would have infuriated Quinn. Sure, she wasn’t in love with Finn as much as the ‘idea’ of being in love with Finn, the popular, All-American High School Quarterback. While this popular, All-American High School Quarterback was cute, goofy and fun to be around, he was also dumb as a post and Quinn, admittedly, had grown tired of doing all the intellectual heavy lifting. As the words left her lips, she felt her own weight being lifted off her shoulders.
Morning sickness played a huge role in Quinn skipping school the next day. What little blood remained in her face drained the moment her mother caught Quinn praying to the porcelain God. A mention of the words ‘swine’ and ‘flu’ had Quinn’s mother off like a shot and calling the Principal complaining about the school’s lack of timely vaccinations.
Quinn spent the day curled in a fetal position on her bed, ignoring the cell phone set to vibrate and it’s timely buzzing every 55 minutes. Cheerios wanting to get confirmation of the news probably spreading like wildfire across the school.
When school ended and the texts and voice-mails turned to knocks at her front door, Quinn pulled the covers over her head and quietly wished them to go away.
She did let one person in. Rachel had been right about one thing - Quinn did need Glee. And Quinn let in the one person she felt she could trust.
“Go on,” Quinn sighed, rolling her eyes. “You know you want to.”
Kurt’s foundation laden finger hovered inches from Quinn’s face. Quinn hadn’t felt like leaving the house so retail therapy was totally out of the question. But playing the role of canvas to Kurt Hummel’s palette of MAC cosmetics was a kind of therapy Quinn could get into. His latest creation was something he liked to call ‘Doris Day meets Lady Gaga’. He’d already tried it on himself but he ‘just didn’t have the cheekbones to pull it off’. Which is where Quinn came in.
Kurt leaned back, tilting his hips and squinting his eyes suspiciously. “Are you sure?” he asked, drawing out the last word.
“It’s a limited time offer, Kurt,” Quinn answered. “And the clock’s ticking.”
“Fine,” he leaned back in, dabbing foundation on Quinn’s face. “Why’d you break up with Finn?” he asked in the most nonchalant of tones.
Quinn sighed, closing her eyes as Kurt worked his magic. She had to tell someone or she thought, for sure, she’d explode. “I think I’m in love with someone else.”
There was the slightest of gasps. “It’s Mr. Shuester, isn’t it?”
“No!” Quinn’s eyes snapped open and she gaped at Kurt.
“Puck?”
“Definitely no.”
“Artie?”
“KURT! Knock it off!” He backed off, doing this little huff/shimmy thing with his body. Quinn relaxed, easing back into the chair. “Not that it matters anyway. I blew it and I don’t know why.”
“Well, if he’s willing to turn his back on you, he’s an idiot.”
Quinn sucked her lower lip between her teeth. She was really going to do it. She was really going to say it. Quinn inhaled deeply, released her lip from between her teeth and exhaled. “She.”
“Excuse me?” Kurt asked in a ‘did I hear what I think I just heard’ tone.
“The he in question is not a he, but a she.”
Kurt went quiet. Quinn watched his eyes in the mirror. There was excited shock, the kind of look you get when you hear the greatest piece of gossip you’ve heard since.. well, last week. Quinn felt like a china doll teetering over the edge ready to break into a million pieces. It was out there now, words she couldn’t take back even though she really wanted to. She wanted to take it all back, the lies, the betrayals. Mainly, she just wanted to stop.. hurting. Her eyes began to well, her lower lip trembled, matching the tremors rumbling within her. Teetering, teetering, teetering.
Kurt’s face softened. He leaned down, pressing the side of his face next to Quinn’s as his arms wrapped around her shoulders. “Shh,” he whispered softly. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
**
“Rachel!” Kurt gasped for like the billionth time. “RACHEL BERRY!?!”
“God,” Quinn smiled sheepishly. “Stop sounding like a broken record.”
“Girlfriend,” he slapped Quinn’s knee playfully. “When you aim, you definitely aim high.”
They were sitting cross-legged across from each other on Quinn’s bed. When she stopped crying, (God, why was she crying so much these days?) Quinn told Kurt everything. Well, maybe not *everything*. She certainly didn’t tell him about the paternity status of her unborn child but she told him everything about Rachel. The argument that lead to a kiss. The kiss that lead to more kisses. The first time in the backseat of Quinn’s car and the many times afterwards. Not so much with the details, Kurt went kinda green at the first mention of Rachel’s tongue on Quinn’s vagina and she was pretty certain he’d pass out if she mentioned just how much of a freak Rachel could be. She told Kurt about Rachel’s sudden abrupt turn, Quinn’s attempts to talk and the brush-offs.
“Can you blame her?” he said. “We’re talking about a girl who’ll cut you to be first in line at Applebee’s. And you’re asking her to be on the down low?”
“I know,” Quinn slumped her shoulders. “I just don’t know what to do.”
Kurt squinted his eyes, lips curling into an impish grin. “I think I may have the answer.”
**
Quinn turned off the engine to her car. She rested her forehead on the steering wheel, fingers still holding the steering wheel with a vice grip. This had to work. It had to.
‘Go big or go home’ Kurt had said. Quinn was used to taking risks. She hadn’t gotten to where she was without taking risks. Of course, she’d lost it all to taking a risk with Puck but that was beside the point. They were all ‘calculated’ risks, carefully planned, constructed and implemented.
This? This was flying without a net and Quinn didn’t know what would happen if she fell. And that was the scariest part of all.
Somewhere, probably in the backseat or something, Quinn found her resolve. She swallowed it with a healthy gulp of courage and a tiny dash of ‘God, if this doesn’t work I may just kill myself’.
A hint of winter was in the air and Quinn could see her breath in wispy strands that floated upwards. She set the boom-box down on the grass of the Berry family’s front lawn, not worrying about whether the dew-coated grass would interfere with the electronics. If this didn’t work, a broken stereo was the least of her worries.
Quinn reached down, pressed her finger onto the ‘play’ button.
And started to sing.
“Guess mine is not the first heart broken. My eyes are not the first to cry.”
**
Rachel twitched then rolled over. She pulled her arm over her face, consciousness and unconsciousness were having a fight and, sadly, consciousness was winning. Maybe not, because there was music. Sweet, sweet music. Rachel smiled and rolled onto her side.
“Dad,” she mumbled aloud. “Olivia Newton-John‘s at the door.”
Rachel’s eyes snapped open.
“..But baby can’t you see. There’s nothing else for me to do..
Her legs moved on their own, kicking at the sheets covering them as her hands fumbled clumsily to yank them back. Her feet hit the floor and she sleep-drunk stumbled to the window.
Quinn Fabray was standing on Rachel’s front lawn.
Quinn Fabray was singing.
“..I’m hopelessly devoted to you..”
Rachel yanked open the window and squealed at the first blast of cold that whooshed through the open space. Hands on the windowsill, she leaned outwards.
“Quinn!” she whisper-shouted.
“My head is saying ‘Fool, forget her’,” Quinn sang back.
“Quinn!” Rachel whisper-shouted a little louder. “It’s three o’clock in the morning!”
“My heart is sayin’ ‘Don’t let go’..”
Rachel retreated back into her bedroom, slamming the window closed behind her. She stomped quickly down the stairs, hurriedly slipping her feet into the first pair of shoes she came into contact with. Unfortunately, they were her Dad’s golf shoes, way too big and friggin’ cold as ice but it was better than going outside barefoot.
She yanked open the door just in time to be assaulted with the chorus.
“..But now, there’s nowhere to hide. Since you pushed my love aside..”
“QUINN!” Rachel was yelling now, marching across her front porch and onto the yard.
“..I’m out of my head. Hopelessly devoted to you..”
“GODDAMMIT QUINN!” Rachel found the ‘stop’ button on the boom-box. Finally, Quinn stopped singing. “I just told my Dad you were mentally ill from getting dropped on the head in one cheerleading pyramid gone wrong too many so he wouldn’t call the cops.”
“What was I supposed to do, Rachel? You won’t answer my phone calls, you won’t talk to me at school.”
“It’s called avoiding you for a reason.”
“I just want to talk.”
“So this is your answer?”
“How else was I supposed to get your attention? It was either this or kidnapping and I‘m in enough teenaged trouble as it is.”
“Whatever trouble you’re in, I’m not a part of it. Not anymore,” Rachel turned her eyes towards the ground, finding something of interest on the wing-tipped toe of her father’s shoe.
Flying without a net and Quinn had crashed and burned. She leaned down to pickup the boom-box. It looked like there would be more crying in her future.
Rachel was standing in her front yard wearing nothing but a long t-shirt and her Dad’s golf shoes, and still she didn’t look as pathetic as one Quinn Fabray, with her jeans and over-sized bomber jacket with the faux sheepskin collar. Her eyes were cast downward, blonde hair spilling over her face as she stared at the two hands holding the handle to the boom box. “Tell your Dad’s I’m sorry,” she mumbled before turning on her heel and trudging towards her car.
“Quinn?” Rachel exhaled, running a hand over her head. “Where are you going?”
Quinn stopped dead in her tracks. “Home?” she said, turning her head slightly towards Rachel almost like she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to look for hope where there was none to be found.
“God,” Rachel huffed and the cracks in the resolve of cement she’d built around herself began to show. “Would you just.. come inside.”
Quinn tried not to smile.. too much. She spun around quickly, practically running towards the brunette. Rachel had already turned around, walking back towards the house. She slowed letting Quinn catch up with her. “And you are soo not Sandy,” she growled accusingly. “Rizzo maybe but definitely not Sandy!”
**
Rachel sat cross legged on her bed, the covers pulled over her legs. Quinn sat on a chair that felt a million miles away, her hands stuffed deep in her jacket pockets because she didn’t know what else to do with them. They hadn’t spoken for like five minutes or maybe it was five hours. Quinn couldn’t tell. She was too busy trying not to look Rachel in the eyes, or think about kissing Rachel, or how many pieces her heart would break into if she tried to kiss Rachel and Rachel said no.
“So..” Rachel broke the silence. “Did you break up with Finn because of me?”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Berry,” Quinn winced at the retort quickly fired off her tongue, slumping a bit further in her jacket like her shoulders were made of jelly. “Sorry. Reflex.”
“It’s okay,” Rachel shrugged. “I understand.”
Another silence followed. Quinn’s eyes found something of interest on Rachel’s bedspread. Her lips pursed and her eyebrows scrunched together. “I felt like I was drowning,” she finally said aloud. “Like, I always knew who I was, what I wanted and how to get it. Then I got pregnant. Then I met you,“ her eyes quickly lifted to meet Rachel’s then shot back downwards again. “We don’t do gay in my house, unless by gay you mean happy and the Fabray’s don’t do happy either. We do appearances. I was very good at being the Quinn Fabray I was supposed to be. I just,” Quinn exhaled. “I just got tired of being ‘her’ and wanted to be me, whoever that is.”
“Technically,” Rachel added when the silence fell again and became too much. “You might not be gay. There is this thing called bisexuality. While I ping somewhere between 4 and 5 on the Kinsey Scale, I try not to limit my options when it comes to physical intimacy due to a potential partner‘s unfortunate Y chromosome.”
Quinn snorted. “Right. Like that’ll make a difference with my parents. Isn’t she lovely?” Quinn’s voice took on a false falsetto. “Our bisexual, pregnant daughter.”
“Oh, it’s not that bad. You’re sure to kill in the talent portion of the Miss Bisexual, Pregnant Teen pageant,” Rachel chuckled and her smile widened as she saw Quinn’s lips curl upwards, grinning back at her. “Even if you are a little sharp.”
“There are worse things I could do,” Quinn answered.
“Exactly!”
The smiles turned to soft sighs and the silence returned between them. Quinn fidgeted in her seat. She took her hands out of her pockets, wiped the sweaty palms on her jeans then stowed them back away.
“I’m sorry,” Quinn said.
“For what?”
“For making you think I didn’t want to reciprocate.”
“Oh,” Rachel’s eyes went wide and, suddenly, it was her eyes that were looking downward, finding some random spot on the bed. “Oh!”
“I want.. wanted to. It’s just.. God, Rachel, you have a mouth that could suck the chrome off a trailer hitch. It’s like when Mr. Anderson tried to explain string theory. Like, I get that it involved physics, I just didn’t get how you got from A to Z. I was afraid of messing up. That I couldn’t do to you what you do to me. Anyway,” Quinn rose from her chair. “That’s all I wanted to say and I understand if you hate me and..”
“Quinn,” Rachel cut her off.
Head tilted down, Quinn answered, “Yeah?”
“Take off your clothes.”
While Quinn’s brain tried to register if she’d heard what she thought she’d heard, Quinn’s hands were already working on Rachel’s request, yanking down the zipper on her jacket as her feet worked on sliding off her shoes.
Rachel surreptitiously licked her lips, wondering if it were possible to spontaneously combust. Of all the times they’d ‘done it’, it had never been with either of them completely naked, always in backseats or closets, short quickies where the only thing removed had been Quinn’s panties. And even that hadn’t been every single time.
Now, Quinn was in Rachel’s bedroom, taking off her clothes, ALL of her clothes. A black t-shirt pulled up, revealing tan skin, slightly darker nipples. Quinn’s fingers moved to her jeans and Rachel swallowed hard even though her mouth had turned dry as the Sahara. It’s not like she hadn’t seen it before, just not like this, nothing but skin, nothing but Quinn.
Quinn rose to her full height. Sheepishly, she folded her arms over her chest. She’d never wanted anything so much in all her life and, yet, she still felt embarrassed. No. Exposed. Vulnerable. She always considered herself a strong, centered and secure person. But, one wrong word from Rachel Berry and Quinn thought she’d break into a million pieces.
Rachel rose onto her knees and outstretched her hand. “C’mere.”
Fingers touched and Quinn exhaled a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. They stood on their knees, bodies inches apart. Rachel reached up, cupping Quinn’s face with one hand, brushing the hair off Quinn’s forehead with the other. Their lips met and Quinn suddenly realized she had hands, hands she could slide up Rachel’s thighs and onto her hips. Fingers she could use to trace the elastic band of Rachel’s panties, move around to the front, slide down and under.
Rachel stiffened, pulling back and breaking their kiss. “Slow down, tiger. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Sorry,” Quinn mumbled.
“Don’t apologize. Just..” she kissed the corner of Quinn’s lips. “Take off my shirt.”
Halfway up Rachel’s torso and Quinn realized her hands were shaking. She managed to pull of Rachel’s tee without doing anything terribly embarrassing. Then, she turned into a horny fourteen-year-old boy because Rachel had BREASTS, full and round, all darkened areolas and hardened nipples and if there was a term for ‘girl wood’, Quinn definitely had it.
“They’re boobs, Quinn,” Rachel laughed softly. “Quit acting like you’ve never seen them before.”
“Not like this,” Quinn exhaled. She cupped them with her hands, grazed her thumbs over the stiffened peaks. Rachel sucked in a breath. Quinn shivered. It’s not like she’d never touched Rachel’s breasts before, just not without the usual barriers of blouse and bra between Rachel’s skin and Quinn’s fingers.
Quinn leaned down, sucked a nipple into her mouth. Clasped it gently with her lips as she battered it with her tongue. She felt Rachel’s fingers threading into her hair, heard the rising and jagged tempo of Rachel’s breathing, felt the increasing beat of Rachel’s heart.
She felt the visceral thrill in the form of a shiver running down her spine over the realization that, yes, it was she, Quinn, who was doing this to Rachel. Yeah, Quinn could *definitely* get used to this.
The fingers in Quinn’s hair tugged her upwards and her mouth was, once again, claimed by Rachel. Quinn pushed her back gently, breaking the kiss because she wanted, no, needed Rachel flat on her back.
Rachel stared up at Quinn, eyes all hooded and dark, mouth slightly open and panting. There’s a tension in the air. Anticipation. Quinn brought her hand up and drew her finger over Rachel’s lips. Rachel’s lips. She’s always said Rachel Berry had a big mouth. She meant it then, she means it now. Quinn drew her fingers over lips she imagined kissing for the rest of her life.
Then, Quinn leaned down, replaced her fingers with her tongue and gently traced all over Rachel’s lips. She suckled on Rachel’s upper lip, then suckled on Rachel’s lower lip and Rachel wondered if it were possible to come just from kissing alone. Then it was lips against lips, mouths opening, tongues dueling, slow and languid, like nothing else mattered and they had all the time in the world for just.. this.
Quinn pulled back, just enough to break the kiss, just enough to where she could feel Rachel’s heated breath inside her mouth.
“You’re so beautiful,” Quinn panted softly into Rachel’s mouth.
“Say it again.”
Her lips spread into a smile. “You’re beautiful.”
They kissed again. Slow and languid turned to passionate and hurried. Rachel grabbed Quinn’s hand by the wrist and guided it down. Quinn broke the kiss because she wanted to watch her fingers, watch them as they slid under the waistband of Rachel’s panties, slid over trimmed and coarse curls. And then her fingers were ‘there’, and Rachel was slippery wet, warm and swollen. She slid a finger between the folds, found Rachel‘s clit and Rachel hissed at the first contact, hips bucking lightly under Quinn’s touch.
Quinn knew this part. She *knew* it. She’d done it to herself tons of times, Rachel had done it to her dozens of times. But it still felt ‘alien’, like she was touching herself but could only feel it in the most intangible of ways. She watched her fingers, bobbing slowly up and down underneath Rachel’s panties. Then, she tilted up her head so she could watch Rachel. Rachel, with her eyes squeezed shut, head tilted slightly back, mouth slack-jawed and silently screaming.
Is this what Rachel saw when she did this to Quinn? Is this what Quinn looked like - pained and pleasured and kinda confused because it felt so good?
“Quinn..” Rachel keened and Quinn stilled her fingers.
“Wait!” Quinn whispered forcefully, pausing until Rachel opened her eyes. “I want to..” Quinn licked her lips, afraid to say the words. “Can I?”
Rachel nodded her head hurriedly, pursing her lips into a flat line because she was holding back and, God, if Quinn didn’t do something soon she really was going to explode.
Pulling back the covers, Quinn moved up and onto her knees. She pulled down Rachel’s panties, Rachel helping by lifting up her legs so Quinn could pull them off completely. Knees up, heels digging into the mattress for purchase, Rachel opened herself to Quinn.
Touching was one thing, but seeing? Seeing was another. It’s not like Quinn hadn’t seen a vagina before. She, like everyone else, had the internet after all. But this was Rachel Berry. RACHEL BERRY. All glistening wet, flushed dark pink and ripened peach swollen.
“Quinn..” Rachel panted, breaking Quinn from her thoughts. “Please.”
At that moment, ‘please’ became the sexiest word in the universe. Quinn lowered and Rachel’s scent wafted into her nostrils, all musky and heady and, God, why *had* she waited so long to do this? She could just look or she could touch, and taste. Quinn chose the latter, diving like a fat kid at a pie eating contest, just as hungry and about twice as sloppy.
What Quinn Fabray lacked in experience, she made up for with pure enthusiasm. It was all Rachel could do but hold on. Her body one giant live-wire - writhing and undulating beneath Quinn. Her hands alternated between grasping the headboard and clenching the sheets. And while Rachel had two very liberal father’s as parents, she was pretty sure that even two gay Dad’s, were they to walk in, would be horrified at the sight of Quinn Fabray’s head buried between their only daughter’s very eager and very open legs. So Rachel turned her head and bit into the fleshy inside of her bicep to keep from screaming.
Because she was coming, oh God!, was she coming. Like a freight train on crystal meth traveling on a tsunami made entirely of lightening, Rachel’s orgasm hit her and hit her hard. Her throat seized and a guttural groan pushed from her mouth like a bow scraping over strings, her body convulsed, undulating and bucking and Quinn just.. wouldn’t.. stop. She felt a finger slide into her, a bite of pain. A hiss escaped through her lips, Quinn moaned, moaned right there, and another wave of pleasure erupted from within her.
“Quinn..” Rachel gasped, her hand flailing about until her fingers met Quinn’s head and she was threading her fingers into blonde locks and pulling. “Please.”
Of course, Quinn had gone like all feral, growling into Rachel’s pussy like Rachel was trying to take Quinn’s bone or something. Which Rachel would have found cute - what with Quinn gazing up at her through the hair falling over her face and her mouth clamped onto Rachel’s pussy like a Hoover set to ‘super suck’ - except, Rachel had reached her pleasure point and really was going into sensory overload.
“Baby,” Rachel whined. “Please.”
Please. Hazel eyes softened and Quinn moved back. Triumphant, she clambered over Rachel, all big cat over its prey while licking her lips in a way that made Rachel reconsider her whole ‘could you stop for a second’ stance.
“Well?” Quinn asked.
“Do you really have to ask?” Rachel rolled her eyes, then gasped as Quinn suckled a sensitive spot on Rachel’s neck.
“Mm-hmm,” Quinn purred into Rachel’s neck. “Us diva’s have delicate ego’s, you know. Mine just needs a little stroking.”
“A little stroking, huh?”
They were missionary, Quinn on top, Rachel’s legs folded over Quinn’s hips. Quinn had started rolling her hips because Rachel was pressed against her, and her warm, wet heat felt *really* good.
“Well..” Rachel groaned. They weren’t quite equipped for what Quinn was doing with her hips but if Quinn kept doing ‘that‘, Rachel wasn’t going to argue. “You scored a perfect 10 on both performance and required elements but got a 1.5 deduction for technical merit.”
“What was wrong with my technique?” Quinn huffed, on the verge of getting offended.
“There is this thing called ‘nuance’,” Rachel wriggled uncomfortably. “Try starting in first and shifting gears as opposed to just stepping on the gas and trying to win the Indy 500. Next time..”
“Next time?” Quinn asked, eyebrow lifting on her forehead, lips curling into a devilish grin.
“Like I said,” Rachel purred, sliding her hands down Quinn’s back and cupping her ass. “You did score perfect 10’s in both performance and required elements.”
“And next time?” Quinn moaned into Rachel’s neck, finding that spot once again and feeling Rachel arch beneath her.
“Next time,” Rachel husked. “Try tracing the letters of the alphabet with your tongue. It always works on you.”
“No,” Quinn grazed her nose along Rachel’s cheek, until it nuzzled against Rachel’s nose. “I meant next time as in tomorrow or next time as in ‘can I go down on you again, like, right now’?”
“I suppose,” Rachel grinned, tilting her head up to press her lips against Quinn’s. “We could work on improving your technical elements.”
**
ONE WEEK LATER
Quinn stood in the entrance of William McKinley High School and inhaled deeply. Today was the first day of the rest of her life. She was still a bit uncertain about a few things. Like, if her new life would be as ‘Miss Bisexual, Pregnant Teen USA’, ‘Miss Lesbian, Pregnant Teen USA’ or just plain old ‘Miss Just Gay For Rachel Berry, Pregnant Teen USA’.
No longer a Cheerio, while she didn’t quite accept the slings and arrows now thrown her way, she’d become.. accustomed to them. Being the most popular girl in school somehow seemed a little less important to Quinn these days. Not as important as being who she wanted to be as opposed to what everyone else expected her to be.
She eyed dark hair bounding towards the lockers at the far end of the hallway. Quinn smiled, taking another healthy inhale of resolve and made her way towards Rachel.
“Hey!” She leaned a shoulder against the lockers, head tilted down slightly and smiling shyly.
“Hey,” Rachel answered back. Her eyes went to Quinn’s chest, well, more the book held against it. “’Judaism for Dummies’? Quinn Fabray,” her voice lowered to a low and purry whisper. “Are you trying to seduce me?”
“Pfft!” Quinn leaned in conspiratorially. “Like, at this point, I even need to try. I already know how to make you wail like a cat on a hot tin roof.”
Rachel moved a little closer. “I could kiss you right now.”
Quinn blushed, her eyes suddenly moving downwards. “You can,” her eyes flickered up towards Rachel’s then back down again. “If you want.”
In the noisy hallway, with the hundreds of students buzzing by, all Quinn could hear was the sudden pounding of her own heart. She lifted her eyes, Rachel had that stunned ‘deer in headlights’ look she often got when something unexpected hit her in the face. Quinn would have found it cute were she not, at the moment, completely terrified.
The warning bell rang and students began to scatter. The expression on Rachel’s face softened but not the crimson coloring her cheeks. She turned, keeping her eyes on Quinn before making the motions to head towards class.
Quinn reached out with her hand, clasping it around Rachel’s. Rachel froze and stiffened but stayed relaxed enough for Quinn to thread her fingers with Rachel’s.
“Are you sure?” Rachel asked.
Quinn looked down at their entwined fingers, then back up at Rachel, smiling sheepishly. “Not really.”
Rachel squeezed her fingers softly. Together, they turned and made their way towards class. Quinn held her head high. If there were slings and arrows, she didn’t notice. She’d been out of her head for a while now. She was Miss Pregnant Teen USA, the fallen golden girl. There were still secrets, still skeletons and, eventually, some of them would get out. Maybe that’s what’s supposed to happen, the consequence of being someone else.
As Quinn walked to class, Rachel Berry beside her, their hands entwined, for the first time in a very long time, Quinn Fabray felt like Quinn.
The person she’s always wanted to be.
END
x-posted to rachel_quinn